Nightmares (Marker fic)
by DirtyBrotherKiller
Summary: Mark has been suffering through nightmares since his childhood in Scarsdale. This night, however, Roger is a witness to them. Fluffy comforting ensues. Mark/Roger.


Mark had always been a victim of nightmares. From the time he was a small child in Scarsdale, when his mother would rub his back, and let him sleep in her bed, to the time he first moved into the loft. Recurring, terrifying, nightmares.

Being an introvert, Mark never usually let anyone know about the dreams he had. His mother knew all throughout his life, but she was the only one. Sometimes the dreams would be so… real, he would wake up screaming bloody murder until his throat went raw. Then came the usual routine. He would shake for hours, curling up into a tight ball until he felt numb to everything and everyone around him. It wasn't until the sun finally strained past the darkness did he manage to drag himself back to reality.

He knew of a saying, one that he thought was pretty damn true. "You're not afraid of the dark. You're afraid of what's in it."

He had always hated the darkness. The shadows weren't welcoming. Most of his nightmares involved the demons that lived inside of him creeping forward, hungry with a vengeance, eating him alive until he awoke, drenched in sweat, and tears, and on the verge of a full scale panic attack.

Even after all those years, all that time, memories, the nightmares still haunted him. When he had his own room in the loft, he would wake up Roger with ear splitting screams at two in the morning, until the older man would sprint in, fearing the worst, and would wake him quickly, sitting with him in confusion as Mark curled in on himself, as was the standard routine.

Even when they were dating, sharing a bed in Roger's room… Their room for comfort, the nightmares still threatened to consume him, rip him apart. One night, the dream was all too real for his tastes.

He woke up on the floor of the loft. Everything seemed to be normal, all their furniture in place, nothing out of the ordinary, or so he thought. He heard the crying of… a baby? coming from Roger's room. Blinking in confusion, he began to creep slowly over, reaching for his roommate's door knob. He let out a scream as the door suddenly ignited in flames, and the ground under him crumbled. He fell lower, and lower, until he crashed into the life cafe, rolling off a table, and hitting the solid floor with a thud.

Rubbing his head, and moaning in pain, he managed to stand, looking around. His eyes went wide in horror. Everyone of his friends was there. There was a catch. These people.. these Things weren't his friends. They stood there, watching him with hollowed out holes for eyes, sick grins on their faces. He gasped, starting to back away, bumping into Collins, who grabbed his arms, and held him still.

Trying to wiggle out was futile. This thing had an iron grip, that even death itself couldn't break. Mark started to whine in fear as the others started to approach, singing a chant together.

"We're gonna get you… no one's gonna help you…. there's no one who can save you…"

He let out another scream, and his friends hollowed eyes started to bleed, until they all dropped to the floor, Collins bringing him down with them. He was suddenly back at the loft, an image of Roger on the ground, his green eyes sending streaks of tears… no… blood… down his face. He gasped out, reaching around blindly, one name coming from his strangled sobs.

"M-Mark…. Mark….. h-help me Mark… Why did you do this Mark?" the smaller blonde ran over, crouching beside him, his eyes watering, and taking his hand.

"Roger… Roger! what happened? talk to me! Roger, please!"

He started coughing, hard, painful coughs that hurt to listen to. He rolled over, the light fading from his eyes, and his breathing seeming to cease. He was gone. His hand went limp in Mark's.

"Rog… n-no… you.. you cant do this to me… I need you…PLEASE.." came the choked plea. He shook the musician, begging him to wake up. A voice hissed in Mark's ear.

"This is all your fault…"

"What!? no! I would never! I didn't mean- why did he- What's happening!? give him back to me!"

A different voice hissed now. One so cold, and so evil, Mark could feel the malice dripping from it's tone.

"I found you…. RUN…"

Mark didn't need anymore convincing. He took off, suddenly everything becoming dark. He was in a long hallway, a light at the end. The light… the light… he would be free of the darkness.. He kept running faster, and faster. He ran so fast he felt his legs beginning to give out. It was no use. The light began to die away like a failing ember, soon, it was no more.

"NOOOOOO!" screamed Mark, as he felt the darkness creep around his ankles, and hold back his arms. He wailed as he felt it soaking through his body and into his heart and going into his eyes and mouth, and he let out one more strangled cry as it finally ate him alive.

"Mark! Mark! honey! Mark! please! wake up!" he jolted awake, holding his throat, and letting out another loud wail as he felt the darkness holding him down. Wait, no… it wasn't the darkness…

"Roger?" he gasped, his eyes wild, his forehead covered in sweat. He glanced around, feeling dizzy, until he finally met those familiar green eyes. The rocker gave him a worried glance. Mark said nothing more, getting a death grip on his boyfriend, and burying his face in the crook of his neck, a sob escaping him as he started to shake.

"Shhhh… it's over, Marky… I'm here… it's okay…" he whispered, holding him close, and kissing his head gently. Mark kept clinging, whimpering as Roger started to rub his back. He nearly melted at the contact, it reminded him of what his mother would do so many years ago.

"R- Rog…." he whispered, keeping his tight hold. Roger held him just as tight, whispering comforting things into his ear. When he was calm enough, Mark stretched up, and kissed him roughly, as if to say how grateful he was. Roger returned it, and stretched out his arms. Mark went into his favorite position, crawling on top of his soul mate, and resting his head on his chest. Roger rubbed his back, the other arm wrapping around his wait tightly. He began to hum musettas waltz.

With the back rubbing, the beat of Roger's heart, and the soothing sound of Roger's voice, Mark was able to fall back to sleep in no time at all, the nightmares not torturing him this time. Yeah, he would still have the dreams, but as long as Roger was there for him, he would get through it. Roger made him strong, kept him from sinking. They needed each other, and always would.


End file.
